


A Truth Universally Acknowledged

by DashFnanz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (except for the famous first sentence of the book), Dramatic Sirius Black, Epic Friendships, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Good Peter Pettigrew, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humor, James Potter is a Good Friend, Just some little Christmas hols fluff guys there's hardly any plot to this, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), No Spoilers, Pride and Prejudice References, Remus Lupin is So Done, Remus Lupin is a Little Shit, this is wholly self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26580142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashFnanz/pseuds/DashFnanz
Summary: The Marauders had stayed back at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays to be there for Remus during his full moon transformation. Sirius had great plans for them, amazing, fantastic plans—but today, he could sit back and live in the moment. It was, after all, the first day of their vacation. He just wasn't prepared for a single book to thwart their good time.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	A Truth Universally Acknowledged

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I think this fic should be celebrated—it's the first fic under 10k I've written since May! I can't believe it myself. Colour me shocked.
> 
> This, though, is more than just a celebration for my own brevity. This fic is specially written for a very, very special person, and I hope this is good enough to qualify as an unexpected surprise.
> 
> N, you've always been my favourite person, hands down, and I am blessed to have you by my side. Thank you for brightening up my life with your colourful presence. I hope you love this, because you deserve nothing but the best. Happy birthday, N!
> 
> A huge shoutout to my very own sunshine girl, Arianna [(arcane illusions)](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/13468353/arcane-illusions). She was simply amazing to me with this fic, being a cheerleader and mood-lifter and beta and colloquial vending-machine all in one. Thanks so much, girl!
> 
> Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is _not_ a goddess, but her writing is magical, and I can never compare. So, she keeps the characters, the places and her own created world, while I borrow them all every now and then like the pathetic human I am. The plot is all mine though!
> 
> Warnings: mild language, gratuitous references to Pride and Prejudices
> 
> Enjoy!

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

The thick book in Sirius' hands instantly felt three times heavier.

He looked up incredulously at his best friend, James, and catching his eye, they shared disgusted shudders. He turned to catalogue Peter's reaction where he was seated opposite James. Peter's watery blue eyes were already glazed over, his puffy lips and pudgy cheeks slack and unresponsive.

"What does it even _mean?_ " he demanded, horrified, at Remus, and Remus Lupin had the gall to look completely unimpressed.

"What do you mean, Sirius? It means exactly what it says it means," Remus said matter-of-factly. Sirius and James shot each other another disbelieving look.

The four of them were settled in the Hogwarts kitchens at nine in the morning, on the first day of holidays, no less. Sirius had grumped valiantly, citing sacrilege and disrespect, but he had been brutally silenced by way of Remus throwing a pillow at his face. It was their first full day of the Christmas hols, and all Sirius asked for was that he didn't see the light of day till the sun was high enough to be acceptable—say, about noon—but _nooo_ , Remus couldn't let him have that.

Sure, he had pancakes and syrup and all the orange juice he could want, but everyone knew that breakfast foods tasted best when they were had any time _other_ than breakfast. He wasn't awake enough for this.

He glared at Remus yet again, and cursed silently when the boy remained largely unaffected, the stoic expression on his scarred face unmoving and unchanged. It was like Remus knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Soo…" James started slowly, and Remus' amber eyes instantly flicked to the bespectacled

boy. "This broad says that rich, hot men who have everything they'd ever need want a wife to get hitched to?"

Remus' features screwed up and tightened to an expression of extreme affront.

"That's not what she—" he began, his voice pained, but Sirius cut him off.

"That's stupid," Sirius declared flatly, setting down the offending book. "I'm rich, I'm hot, I'm single, and I'd like to _stay_ single, thank you very much. I don't much like birds; they bore me. Why would I want to marry one?"

"I wouldn't much want to marry one either," James added in distaste. "They don't know how to take a joke very well, do they? Remember Dorcas with the wormwood shavings? She chased after us about it for weeks. And all because the potion scorched off her eyebrows! Big deal—it happens to us all the time."

"I remember," Peter nodded with a solemn face. "I still have the scar from when she caught up to me." He rubbed the side of his stomach sadly. "Madam Pomfrey couldn't heal it."

"We did tell you to run, mate," James said commiseratingly, reaching out across the table to pat Peter's hand where it rested beside the piled plate of smoked ham.

"I thought she was going to _kiss_ me," Peter griped in his kicked puppy tone, and James patted Peter's thin, pale wrist yet again.

For a bloke his size, Peter Pettigrew had uncommonly delicate wrists. Sirius thought to crack another joke about it, but Peter looked so down and despondent, that he decided to let it go.

He _could too_ be mature, never mind what stuffy old Remus said.

"You were outsmarted, Wormy. It happens," James soothed. "Those birds can be mighty devious. It isn't your fault that you were taken in."

"And _that_ ," Sirius exclaimed, pointing dramatically at James, "is yet another good point for why we must never marry a woman. They clearly cannot be trusted."

"I wouldn't know," Peter shrugged, pouting sadly. "Birds don't talk to me very much. They either injure or ignore me."

Sirius opened his mouth to reassure Peter that he wasn't _wholly_ repulsive—just partly, and a very acceptable amount, at that—but James spoke over him. It was just as well, really; he had no idea what to say, and he had the unfortunate habit of making things worse.

"I, for one," James proclaimed, sticking his fairly large nose up in the air, "don't plan to make that mistake. I'm not stupid enough to resort to that."

Sirius sneaked a glance towards Remus, but he wasn't looking at any of them. Remus' light brown hair had fallen into his closed eyes, but he hadn't bothered to flick it away, which was unusual. He had the bridge of his nose pinched between two spindly fingers, breathing in and out rather heavily.

Sirius was quite sure that one day, he'd find two identical indents burned into Remus' nose in the shape of the impression of Remus' own thumbs, but he had no clue what they had done to warrant the Frown of Despair this time. Then again, he almost never did.

Well, if Remus wouldn't seize the opportunity to tease James, then he'd take it. It would be a shame to let go of an opening presented to him so beautifully. A _shame_.

"You're absolutely right, Jamie," he nodded emphatically. "No woman is worth that misery. I'm proud of you for being man enough to take such a bold stand. Imagine, being stuck with her for eternity! Why, even _Evans_ wouldn't make the torture worthwhile."

_That_ made Remus stop and look up.

James' hazel eyes widened comically behind his round, owlish spectacles. James said his glasses added character; Sirius said that they showed off just how much of a nerd he actually was. James said that Sirius could suck it.

James' mouth opened and closed uselessly, and he had to swallow before he could speak. "Eternity? Lily—I wouldn't mind being with _her_ for an eternity. Bloody hell, I'd marry Evans in a heartbeat."

James licked his lips, his throat bobbing in another gulp. From the periphery of his vision, Sirius saw Remus' eyes narrow and his hand twitch.

When James continued, his voice took on a disturbingly breathy quality, his tone soft and almost wondrous, and Sirius instantly caught on to the cause of Remus' sudden concern. That tone spelt nothing but trouble—trouble of the not-so-good kind, and that was coming from _him_.

"Do you—do you think that's what Evans is waiting for? For me to show stronger commitment? I—All I gotta do is prove that I'm in it for the long haul, and then she'll say yes!"

With each embarrassing utterance from his best friend's lips, Sirius grew steadily more horrified. He couldn't believe that the idiot spouting all this shit was the same multi-level genius who, just a week ago, thought up with him all the bawdy lyric changes for the Christmas carols the charmed suits of armour now sang in the hallways. Some of those innuendos James came up with were poetic gold. Most of them even _rhymed_.

This James, however, was, frankly, an idiot.

"You're an idiot," Sirius stated. Remus bobbed his head up and down silently.

"Am not!" James reared back, offended. "I'm brilliant! Now, all I need is a ring—Sirius, will you help—"

"Do _not,_ " Remus cut him off vehemently, "finish that sentence."

"But, Moony!"

" _No_. James Potter, don't even think about it." James crossed his arms and pouted angrily, and Remus rolled his eyes in response.

For some inexplicable reason, Remus then turned across to scowl at _Sirius_. If he was a lesser man, that icy glare would have made his bollocks shrivel up in terror. As it was, he only died inside a little bit.

Honestly, someone would think that _he_ was the one to get James thinking about commitments and proposals.

Oh, wait, that _was_ him.

He winced, giving Remus his best sheepish look, but Remus didn't budge an inch.

"I think," Remus said frostily, boring ice daggers into Sirius' forehead, "that we have gotten wildly off-topic here. I would like to get back to the subject at hand, thank you very much."

"Bacon?" Peter piped up helpfully, holding up the greasy strip clasped hopefully in his hand.

Remus sighed. "No, Peter, not bacon. The _book_ ," he said wearily, gesturing with his chin to where said mental torture device was resting audaciously on the sanded surface of the wooden table, face up and mocking Sirius with its dumb fancy title.

_Pride and Prejudice,_ indeed. Stupid, pretentious name with its stupid, pretentious words. There was no way in hell Sirius would be able to get past the first page.

There was no way in hell they would make it past the first _sentence_.

Sirius snorted. "Sorry, Moony, but there's no way I'm touching that book again. It told me to get a wife! That's terrible advice."

Remus blinked. "It never said that."

"Yes, it did!" James chimed in, "It said that all rich, hot men should want to get hitched, remember?"

" _Terrible_ advice," Peter nodded for emphasis. "If all the rich, attractive blokes get all the women, there'll be none left for the poor, not-so-attractive ones."

"No, that's not—that's not what the line _meant_." Remus sighed, exasperated. Sirius exchanged a look with James. Remus was being all confusing and cryptic, and Sirius didn't like that one bit.

"Of _course_ that's what it meant!" James retorted, the beginnings of annoyance tracing his tone. "Sirius, read the line again," he demanded. "Go on, open the book!'

Sirius sighed, reaching out to pick up the offending thing. He thumbed through to the first chapter with an appropriate level of grumbling. "I _just_ swore that I wouldn't touch it, and what am I doing? I'm _touching_ it."

Remus and Peter looked mightily unimpressed. James just rolled his eyes. "Shut up and get on with it, Pads," he said huffily.

Sirius jerked his head up at that. "And you wonder why I don't stick to my resolutions," he sniffed, glaring at James before he looked back down at the page, where the first sentence sat there primly at the very top, just as irritating and convoluted as it was when he had first looked at it.

He read it aloud for his friends. "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

"See?" James jabbed a finger at the book, nearly knocking it over from Sirius' hands in his haste. "That's exactly what it says!"

Remus sighed for the umpteenth time. "No, that's not what it's supposed to—" He cut himself off with a frustrated huff. "It's meant to be _ironic_ ," he stresses, "which you would know if you paid enough attention to get past the first sentence."

"Ironic?" Sirius asked, confused. "So, what, it _doesn't_ mean what it says it means?"

"But that can't be right," James butted in, "because Remus clearly said that it means exactly what it says it means."

Peter gasped loudly, and entirely too earnestly. "Does that mean that Remus _lied_ to us? Remus, did you lie?"

"I did not lie—"

"So you did lie!" James pointed at Remus accusingly. "You're a lying liar who lies! Did you think it was funny to confuse us?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." Remus pinched the bridge of his nose again. It was a wonder he didn't cut off his air supply with how hard he dug in his fingernails.

"I'd ask you to explain yourself," Sirius said dryly, "but I just want to know what this stupid line actually _means_. I never got a clear answer on that."

Remus looked happy to ignore James' outraged glare, turning in relief to Sirius as he settled into his _Professor Moony_ expression.

"It's a hard-hitting line exposing the inequality of society as it was, and challenging the oppressive and constraining patriarchy prevalent in the construct of marriage—"

"In English, please," Sirius cut in. "My brain hurts just trying to untangle all that."

James' eyes widened. "Wait, wait, wait—isn't patriarchy a fancy word for… you know, _men?_ "

"The book is challenging us?" Peter asked, warily flicking his blue eyes at where Sirius was heaving up the dead weight in his hand. "That doesn't sound very nice."

"It's not," Remus started, rolling his eyes, "challenging _us_. It challenges the controlling stand taken by the male-dominated society of _those_ times _._ "

Sirius mouthed the words 'of those times' incredulously, but he wasn't given time to dwell on the possible connotations it could have.

"That's where the irony lies," Remus continued. "In that, it was never the men who were in want of a spouse, but rather, it was the other way around."

"What do you mean, Moony?" James asked.

"Well, marriages were more strategic, back then. They had to be. Legally, women were under the care of their sires, and as such possessed the name and title of their fathers. But they weren't legally allowed to inherit these names and titles—and the wealth and estate that came with them—from their fathers when they passed away. So, a woman had no means to take care of herself, and no firm ground to stand upon unless they bore the name and title of their husband, in which case their spouse would be required to take care of them."

Well. _That_ certainly explained everything.

Sirius waited for James to speak again. Surprisingly, of the Marauders, it was James Potter who could best parse out Remus-speak. Sirius figured that it was more to the fact that James _liked_ his pureblood life, where Sirius had spent his whole existence resisting it.

Remus said that his hatred of big words was irrational, but, personally, Sirius begged to differ. _Remus_ wasn't the one to sift through all the grown-up talks during his childhood, only to find out that his aunts were essentially discussing incest and pureblood dichotomy over glasses of wine and trays of cheese. There was nothing like eavesdropping on _that_ particular bombshell of a conversation for a newly-enlightened six-year-old to be scarred for life.

Just as always, James came through for him.

"That's—That is so sick. We would never treat women like—like property! We'd never want to _own_ them. How dare that book accuse us of something so heinous!"

Sirius reared back, staring disgustedly at the silently rude book still in his hands. James was right; how dare this weighty piece of trash accuse them of something so horrifying!

"For the last time," Remus intoned wearily, "the book isn't talking about _us_. The book talks about the conditions of the times when it was written. That happened a long time ago."

Something clicked.

"Hold on," Sirius drawled slowly. "You've mentioned this a couple times. Exactly _how_ long ago are we talking about?"

"Hmm?" Remus hummed tiredly, before he blinked up at Sirius belatedly. "Oh, it was written early in the eighteenth century. Times were a whole lot different then, you know. It's what I love best about the book—it gives a wholesome insight into the social structure of older society, and how times have evolved since that era."

James choked on his orange juice.

"You okay?" Remus questioned worriedly. Peter looked up from his heaping pile of ham and toast slices, and reached out awkwardly across the table to thump James on the shoulder, but he couldn't do much else to help.

Sirius could have patted James' back to alleviate his frantic hacking coughs; he was in a much more convenient position to do so, since he was sitting right next to him. He wasn't being a callous friend by ignoring his best mate, though, really. He would have done it himself, were he not frozen in position in utter, utter horror, staring silently at the innocent looking tome in his hand—one that was, apparently, written approximately _a hundred and fifty years ago._

There was a sudden ear-piercing shriek, echoing round the stone walls of the large kitchen, and belatedly, Sirius realised that it came from him. It was too late to take it back, though, so he let himself shriek again.

"I'm touching a _fossil!"_ he cried, throwing the book as far from him as he could. It conveniently fell to a thudding stop right between the platter of bacon sandwiches and the jug of orange juice, sliding the littlest bit across the rough tabletop to wedge against the edge of Remus' plate.

Remus picked it up carefully and dusted off its golden brown cover, glaring balefully at Sirius over his nose.

"That thing is older than our History of Magic textbook!" James gasped hoarsely, rubbing a hand in circles under his throat.

Peter looked up from his ham again, staring wide-eyed at James. "It i _s?_ " Peter asked, shocked. "But our History of Magic book is so old! Remus, did you secretly give us a textbook to read?"

"No, I didn't," Remus bit out angrily, cradling the fossil in his arms like a precious child. Peter shifted away from Remus unsubtly, toast still clutched in his hand. "And I'd appreciate it if you save the dramatics for when you don't have something so valuable in your hands, Sirius. This is the most expensive book in my collection!"

"Why?" James asked curiously. "Is it an antique?"

Remus spluttered. "It's not—Merlin, why am I friends with you people?"

Peter shifted away again, eyes darting between Remus and the book.

Sirius eyed the tome distrustfully, but decided to give it a second chance. "So…" he started as casually as he could, running a finger over the rim of his half-empty goblet of juice. "Do Muggles really keep around old storybooks for fun?"

"Yes, Sirius," Remus rolled his eyes, his anger mixing with fondness, "Muggles don't just keep around informative material and history books, they also keep creative literature."

"Why?" Sirius asked, reluctantly intrigued.

"Because, well—there's so much to learn from them, I guess. We get to read about all these cultures from someone's eyes, and that's always the best way to get a look into their lives."

"What could some old biddy who probably died a hundred years ago teach us that's still relevant?" James asked sceptically, and shrunk back at the scorching glare he received from Remus. "Never mind," he backtracked hastily.

Remus nodded, looking all smug and self-satisfied, though he would never admit to it if Sirius pointed it out. "So," he said with a smirk, "Can we move on to the second sentence now?"

Sirius groaned heavily. "Do we _still_ have to read it?"

"Why are we reading this, again?" James added with a groan of his own.

"Because you promised," Remus said, and they stared back with unimpressed frowns. "Okay," he continued, setting the book next to his plate and crossing his arms, "because you, James, wanted to have an intellectual conversation with the supposed love of your life and not have her chase you away with curses and glares, and you decided that talking about her favourite book of all time would be the best choice of topic."

James immediately scrunched his face up. "Do I _have_ to?"

"Of course not, James," Remus reassured softly, with a soothing lilt to his voice and a dangerous glint in his eyes, "I _did_ mention to Lily that I had loaned you my copy of her favourite book, and that you were planning to read it over the holidays, but I'm sure you can just avoid the conversation or fake some answers if she asks you about it. You're good at that, after all, and I'm sure she wouldn't be too mad if you accidentally offend her yet again by saying something dumb. After all, that's exactly what you've been doing for, what, four years, now?"

James gulped, accepting the subtle threat for what it was.

"What about me?" Sirius questioned, feeling particularly bold and morbidly curious.

"Hmm," Remus turned to him, "Well, wasn't this supposed to be your way of making it up to me for all those would-have-been detentions I looked the other way for? I seem to remember you promising me a single wish in exchange for all those write-offs, but if you want to back out of this one, I can always think up something else…"

Sirius' eyes widened. Remus could be particularly vicious in his creativity when he was in the punishing mood, and with that look in his amber eyes, Sirius wasn't stupid enough to take that chance. Okay, well, he _was_ stupid enough to start it, but he wasn't foolish enough to take it further.

"N—No, I'm g-good," he stuttered, tripping over his words to get them out. "I'm good with this."

Remus levelled him a final, challenging look, and he swore his heart stopped for a second. When Remus looked away, taking his judgement away with him, he couldn't stop the resulting sigh of relief.

"Peter?" Remus asked mildly—far too mildly. "Anything you want to ask me as well?"

Peter blinked. "No?" he answered hesitantly through a mouthful of toast. "Should I?"

James rolled his eyes.

Remus frowned, looking puzzled. "Aren't you going to argue against reading it like these two did?"

"No?" Peter reiterated in that same hesitant, confused tone. Remus' brow furrowed further. "Why would I say that I don't want to read it when I do?" Peter finished.

"You do?" Sirius and James questioned in incredulous unison.

"You do?" Remus echoed dubiously.

"Well, yeah," Peter said, shrugging simply, "I know that you want me to read it, Remus, so I want to read it too. You seem to like it a lot."

Sirius blinked. That was… exactly like Peter, actually. Sometimes, he forgot how _nice_ the boy was. That little titbit of information somehow just got lost among all the food the bloke shoved into his open maw, he supposed.

James shot him a bemused smile, looking fond in a 'I can't believe this chap is real' sort of way. When Sirius smiled back, he was pretty sure he had the same sort of bemusement exposing his usual nonchalance.

Remus' pale cheeks lit up in a soft, barely-there blush, and his lips quirked up seemingly unconsciously, gazing at Peter with affection in his pleased eyes. "Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "Well."

"Did I say something wrong?" Peter asked, confused.

"Oh no, mate," James reassured with a cheeky smile, "In fact, I think you made our Moony here _very_ happy."

"Shut up, James!" Remus yelped. The stain on his cheeks darkened and spread over his skin. Peter blinked, glanced between James and Remus, then shrugged and went back to attacking his ham and toast.

"Okay, fine," Sirius spoke up when the sappiness started to get overwhelming, "we'll read your bloody eighteenth century book." Remus turned to him, shooting him that same pleased smile, and he rolled his eyes in response. "But—"

Remus' smile fell.

Sirius rolled his eyes again. " _But…_ I'm still not gonna touch it."

"Sirius!"

"What?" he responded to Remus' indignant reaction. "I warned you before too!"

"It's a _book_ , Sirius, it isn't going to bite you."

"Excuse you, it might do worse than bite me. What if the pages crumble in my hands? What if it _itches?_ You know I hate rashes on my skin!"

"You're being dramatic, Pads. It's not that bad at all."

"It's a relic!"

"It's a _classic_."

The only thing that stung worse than Peter's indifferent dismissal of their very relevant argument, was James' laughing his arse off in Sirius' ear, his squawks filling the warm air and echoing around the four stone walls of the large kitchen.

* * *

It was two in the afternoon, and the four of them were strolling aimlessly around the snowy Hogwarts grounds, wrapped comfortably in all their warm layers.

It was an unusual experience, walking through Hogwarts and hearing nothing but the chirping of the birds and their own loud voices. Sirius was so used to seeing the grounds full of life, and each year he stayed over at the castle for the holidays, he savoured the serene quiet with new perspective.

He thrived in the chaos of the castle during school-time, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain beauty to this quiet stillness. There was peace in the crisp air and blanketed white scenery, one that even Sirius' buzzing mind could fall into and soak in.

They hadn't had their lunch yet—Sirius was pretty hungry, but he didn't want to go in just yet. The others had wholeheartedly agreed.

They hadn't done much since breakfast. Sirius was still a bit miffed about being woken up at such an ungodly hour when there was nothing pressing to do, but he could appreciate Remus' thinking—it was nice, just hanging out with his friends and nothing else, and his day already felt full and satisfying at noon, largely because he had been awake for most of it. The rest of the holidays seemed to stretch out before him endlessly, and yes, this was a great start to their vacation. He could just _feel_ it. It was going to be epic.

Sirius was adamant about making this vacation a good one all through their hols for Remus—his full moon transformation this month was set for Christmas Eve, which meant that the poor bloke would be spending all of Christmas Day keeping Madame Pomfrey company. He wouldn't even make it for the _feast meal._ That was just unacceptable in Sirius' book, so he was going to try his damned best to keep Remus cheerful the rest of the time, and if that included waking up at the arse crack of dawn, well, so be it.

James, through unspoken agreement, was just as invested as him in their joint mission. Peter, of course, was always on board for a good time. They had stayed back at Hogwarts for Remus, and their company had put a bigger spring in Remus' prim steps. It was pretty relaxing with just the four of them—there were no pranks, no plans to make, no pressure of deadlines of any sort, just them and their weird quirks. Sirius had no doubt that he'd be getting restless soon—he wasn't _built_ for prolonged rest, and neither was Prongs—but today, he could admire the simplicity of this sort of joy.

He and James were carrying the house elves' picnic baskets, conveniently shrunken to fit into their pockets. Sirius grinned as he remembered the way Shelly and Whittle bustled about packing the baskets hastily when Peter mentioned their plans to eat lunch in the Astronomy Tower after their morning strolls. All the house-elves adored Peter, but those two were particularly affectionate with the fellow, mother-henning him and dotingly patting his hands. It was hilarious to watch the show, in a disturbingly endearing sort of way.

It had been a fun morning. They had spent ages in the warm kitchens, talking and arguing and having fun in the way only they could do. The house-elves were fantastic as always at giving them their space—they weren't interrupted or hushed even once, and they could be as loud as they wanted. Sirius himself had yelled at least thrice, and he didn't get a single odd look. It was all because of Peter, of course—he doubted that the house-elves would have been as accommodating if Peter wasn't around, and luckily, none of them broke any dishes this time, so they weren't kicked out.

Playing in the snow was as fun as he remembered. They could make snowmen with wonky builds, and dare each other to do stupid things without being judged for it. He ran and leaped and jumped and whooped with no finesse whatsoever, with the only reactions to his antics being James' similar moves. At one point he had gotten into a scuffle with James, tumbling and rolling around in the snow, and there was now a light dusting of white flakes all down his front which he couldn't brush off.

It had been a good morning.

They were left to themselves for most of the day; there weren't many other students who had stayed behind this year—just some third year Ravenclaws, a handful of Hufflepuffs, and Rosier's gang from Slytherin—and none of them were the kind who would be out in the snow before lunch, so they were alone on the grounds for the most part.

Sirius could see some of the third years having a snowball fight nearer to the castle's entrance. Most of the Hogwarts students were slowly coming out of the woodworks now, spoiling their unrestricted freedom. It didn't matter very much, however, since they had already had their fill of playing in the snow. Besides, it wasn't Sirius' place to deny them their fun, not when he had already had his.

They were making their way back to the castle now, because as much as they all wanted to stay out in the winter sunshine, their stomachs had decided to overrule them. Peter was already munching on some of the beef jerky from the "travel" packet Shelly had slipped into his pocket before they left the kitchens. Sirius desperately wanted a strip to satiate the gnawing pit of hunger in his belly, but the devastated look Peter had shot James when he had taken up Peter's obligatory offer of passing the packet around was crippling enough that Sirius didn't want one levelled at him.

"I say we head down to the common room after lunch for a little bit of quiet time," Remus spoke up while they were discussing what they should do for the rest of the day, "Sit near the fire for a while. I could read some of the book to you, explain what it means."

Sirius, who was going to suggest that they sort through and categorise their prank supplies, instantly shut his mouth.

"Sure, Remus!" James agreed a little too enthusiastically. He had undoubtedly picked up on the uncertain undertone in Remus' voice, just as Sirius had. "We can do that. I could use some time out."

Remus grinned happily, and it eased some of Sirius' dread.

He belatedly hoped that the bloody book wouldn't hold it's hounding, demanding presence over him all through his vacation. That would be sure to suck out the fun from their weeks off.

The warmth of the castle when they entered through the towering front doors felt like a heat blast to the face. He shivered at the sudden change in temperature, and his clothes promptly felt like they were sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His mind started to catalogue all his discomforts one by one, from his wet hair to the itch between his toes, and all he wanted was a hot shower, dry clothes, a warm blanket, and three cups of hot chocolate.

"Hey, mate?" he called to Peter as they walked up the first flight of stairs to their tower. "You mind making a quick run down to the kitchens later for some hot chocolate? I'll go with you."

Peter perked up. "Sounds good, Padfoot! You'll come help me carry?" Sirius smiled his response.

"Ooh, yes," James piped up gratefully. "I'd fancy some too. It's bloody cold outside."

"Showers first," Remus reminded them gently. "Hot chocolate after."

The portraits turned their noses up at them as they passed through the halls. Looking back, Sirius spied thin, clear trails of water left behind by their glistening boots. "Oops," he whispered, biting off a chuckle behind a mittened hand.

They turned a corner, still talking, only to run into the older Slytherins on the other side. Peter, who was absorbed with pulling out another jerky strip from the packet safely nestled in his left pocket, unsuspectingly walked right into Rookwood. He looked up, took one glance at the Slytherin's unimpressed expression and aggressive stance, and squeaked.

Sirius cursed under his breath.

"Well, fellows, look what the Kneazle dragged in," Rosier quipped to his cohorts, and sneered at them.

And okay, Sirius could see the truth in the git's statement. They were all admittedly dishevelled, with lumpy clothes and wet hair, cheeks red from the cold and lips dry and cracked. Remus' mass of tangled scarves made him look even more bedraggled than the rest of them, James' glasses were crooked and his hair was utterly atrocious, Peter's chubby figure looked ridiculous in his thick woollen coat, the long strip of the jerky drooping depressingly in his hand, and Sirius could acutely feel snow sliding down the back of his shirt, so he knew that he himself was no better.

But still, _rude._

"Mates, do you smell something?" James asked them out of the blue, sniffing obnoxiously. Sirius, of course, knew what he was about to say, but Peter, precious, oblivious Peter, went right ahead snuffling curiously along with him.

"I think I caught a whiff just then, James," Remus said with a straight face and a single twitch of his nose.

"Hmm, you're right," Sirius added his own two Knuts, screwing his face up in affected disgust, "There's something in the air. And whatever it is, it isn't made of roses."

Rosier and his cronies seemed to catch on to their act, if the ugly way their faces contorted was any indication.

"You fellas think you're funny?" Rookwood snarled. " _You're_ the ones looking like drowned rats."

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed, affronted. "We may look like drowned rats, but we certainly don't stink—so it _must_ be you."

Goyle scratched his head.

"Snow is a form of water, genius," James said, rolling his eyes. "We pretty much just went out there and had a long, deep soak. It was even more fun than the Prefects' bath; you should try it sometime."

Rosier narrowed his eyes. "Why, have you ever been to the Prefects' Bath?"

Sirius hurriedly interrupted before James could open his mouth again. Rosier was too sharp for his own good, and he didn't want James to give him more fodder. Besides, he needed to distract them from Remus' bright red face—he was giving away everything already, the way he was worrying at his lip so guiltily.

"You really should try it, lads," Sirius drawled, reaching up to clap Goyle on his meaty shoulder. "Fresh air and a bit of chill will do wonders opening up that brain of yours. Who knows, it might smarten you enough that you could pass second year Charms, all on your own this time!"

Goyle turned red.

"Shut up," was his bright retort.

"Well, it's not like you're any smarter, Black," Rookwood commented with a glower. "If you were, you would know better than to mess with us."

"Oi! You started it!" James snickered, glancing at Sirius.

"We just finished it," Sirius ended for him with a matching snigger.

Rosier rolled his eyes, but Sirius could see the anger simmering underneath.

"So, you think you're clever, hmm? You mock those you find dumber than you." Rosier's tone was soft and dangerous, and Sirius was instantly on his guard. "What must you think of your dear friend Pettigrew there, then? Is he too dull for your tastes?"

Sirius turned to exchange a quick glance with James, and saw Peter's face crumple from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, no, Peter's great," Sirius returned darkly. "Talking to him isn't like talking to a slug, because the bloke actually has opinions. And, you know, a personality."

James chortled, following up Sirius' words. "Jealousy is ugly on you, mate. Can't blame you, though; it must be hard, being the only one in your group who can think for themselves."

"I've seen his opinions," Rookwood laughed cruelly. "Oh, James, that's _brilliant!_ Sirius, you're so _confident!_ It's a joy to watch. Did your mother teach you how to kiss up so well, Pettigrew, or was that something you picked up yourself?"

"Don't talk about my mother!" Peter squeaked angrily.

Sirius and James glanced at each other again. They both knew how much Peter adored his mother, and Sirius liked Mrs Pettigrew a lot too. If Peter decided to be confrontational over any subject at all, it would be to defend her, and Sirius would gladly have his back.

"Don't talk about his mother," Rosier told Rookwood, mocking Peter by echoing the words with an exaggeratedly shrill pitch.

Peter blushed, defiant but embarrassed, and Sirius was instantly ready to slug Rosier. _Hard_.

"Okay, why don't we all just calm down and go our own ways?" Remus stepped in and interjected, putting him palm out placatingly. "We can keep the peace; pretend this never happened."

"Oh, _Mr Prefect_ has his own opinions as well, now," Rookwood smirked. "How long did it take you to gather up enough courage to speak, Lupin? I'm surprised you haven't popped a blood vessel yet, with how hard you're trying."

Remus frowned, but kept his cool. "Now, come on, fellows, isn't this the best solution for us all? It's the first day of the hols. Let's not fight."

Rosier snorted nastily. "With that line, I don't understand how anyone at this school could ever think that you got all those scars by being intimidating. What was the last rumour going around, Augustus? Bar fight?"

"Yeah, that's what the Hufflepuffs said," Rookwood agreed with a dark laugh. "Fools, the lot of them."

"Hmm, yes," Rosier commented. He gave Remus' form a once over, his glittering eyes dripping with disdain, and Sirius could see the muscles in Remus' neck tighten reflectively. "Clearly, he earned all those beauty marks by throwing down and letting the big boys whale on him."

Silence.

" _Ohhh,_ you're gonna pay for that," James growled, pulling out his wand.

"You're going to die, clown," Sirius snarled, readying his fists.

" _Locomotor Mortis,_ " Peter said clearly, wand already in hand and pointed to Rosier. The curse hit its target right on point, binding his legs together and leaving him a sitting duck for Sirius and James' oncoming… discipline.

For a split second, no one moved. Then, Remus sighed softly, let his shoulders slump, and walked a few steps to stand aside.

Sirius registered Remus' closed eyes and pinched nose, foreshadowing the Frown of Despair, but it didn't make him budge an inch. No one, _no one_ who insulted Peter's mother and brought up Remus' scars like that could expect to just walk away. These slimy gits needed to be thought a lesson, and there was no one like a bunch of angry Marauders who could do the job better.

"Charge!" he yelled like a battle cry, and all hell broke loose.

* * *

"Time, Moony?"

Sigh. "Four thirty-six—six minutes since we started detention, and one since you last asked."

Sirius frowned. That one minute had gone by really, really slowly.

"How many minutes left, again?"

Another sigh. "Two hours and twenty-four minutes, James. Again, one minute less than when you last asked."

Sirius and James exchanged a silent glance. Maybe now was not the best time to theorise about the classroom secretly being a time-decelerating chamber. Remus looked just irritated enough that he might try to hex them in detention.

"We should try to work on our essay," Peter wisely said. "It'll make time go by faster."

James snorted, reading aloud the glittering silver words hovering at the front of the class, written in Professor McGonagall's crisp writing.

"Write ten inches on why physical violence is not condoned in a school setting, and the possible and not inconsiderable consequences the result of such violence might have, when coupled with magical aggression. Black, writing 'we win, they lose' over and over for ten inches of parchment does not qualify as a proper essay."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Minnie has no faith in my abilities. I'd write it in fancier words than _that!_ "

Remus huffed, annoyed. "I think she'd rather you not write it at all, Sirius."

Sirius grimaced. "Are you mad at us, Moony?"

"Why would I be mad?" Remus replied sarcastically. "I, a prefect, am sitting with you dolts in detention for fighting with a couple Slytherins who threw around a few nasty words." He glared. "We could have just walked away, but _nooo,_ you had to get back at them."

"And in the end, I'd do it all again," Sirius insisted.

"They were wrong to say that about you, Moony," Peter spoke up earnestly.

Remus' eyes softened. "And they were just as wrong to say that your mother, Peter."

"See, we were completely justified, Rem," James said, his eyes growing serious. "No one insults my friends the way they did. We would have given them hell for it sooner or later—we just decided to make it happen sooner."

Remus' flat expression gave way to sheepishness, "I know," he said softly, smiling, "I've learned that, by now. Honestly? I'm just mad that you were the ones to throw the first punch. If they were the ones to instigate it, we could have just claimed self-defence and we'd have been allowed to walk away."

"There he is," James said fondly, "the manipulative little bastard we all know and love."

"Shut up, Prongs," Remus muttered, rolling his eyes.

"It was worth it, though," Sirius grinned, recalling the lovely looking black bruise that covered Rosier's left eye as he walked out of detention before they had walked in, sharp at four o'clock.

Professor McGonagall hadn't said a thing to the Marauders since she had caught them all at the end of their brawl, but she sure must have had some words to say to the Slytherins, because the glare the snakes had given them when they stomped out of the classroom was downright _poisonous_.

"Yeah, I guess it was," Remus answered him, giving him a soft smile. Sirius grinned again in response.

"Hey, Remus?" James piped up with a rueful smile, "Sorry we won't get to sit around by the fire and read that book like you wanted."

McGonagall had demanded that they eat dinner in the Great Hall this evening, as part of their punishment—the _only_ thing she had said to them before she walked out the door with a swish of her emerald robes. It meant that they wouldn't have any free time for the rest of the day, since no one was under any delusions that they wouldn't be ready to drop off to bed the minute they were up in their dorms. It had been a long day—but a pleasing one, nonetheless.

"Yeah," Sirius echoed, feeling strangely disappointed about the loss of their story-time. "Sorry about that."

"Oh, that's alright," Remus replied, waving it off with a grin, "There will always be tomorrow. We have a whole two weeks to ourselves to finish it."

Sirius grinned back at his enthusiasm. "Still, this certainly isn't a perfect end to our first day. I know you don't like fighting."

"I don't," Remus agreed, nodding his head, "But are you sure about the other? I think it's pretty perfect."

Sirius blinked, then looked around at them. Remus was smiling happily at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes that hadn't gone down since they had announced to him that were staying back at Hogwarts to be with him. Peter had a lazy, content look to his round face, leaning back in his chair and innocently twiddling with his quill. James, his partner-in-crime, for once, didn't look like he was plotting something, sprawled across his seat all soft and cosy.

This was who they were—a ragtag bunch of misfits, banded together to become something stronger. Sometimes, Sirius forgot that at the end of it all, they were just _them_. With all the quirks in their personalities, the loudness in their voices, the spring in their steps. They didn't always have to be on their game—they could just relax and be like this, and things would still be perfect.

That book was wrong. Sure, some people in the past may have thought it a truth that rich men had everything once they had wives. But the universally acknowledged truth in _this_ universe was as simple as this: friendships came in all sorts of ways, but the luckiest men were those who had the best friends. And Sirius? Sirius was the luckiest of them all.

"Yeah, Moony," Sirius smiled, satisfied. "This is pretty perfect."


End file.
